


This Family

by farawayfiction (JJ_Thomas)



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Concussions, Gen, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:55:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23524186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJ_Thomas/pseuds/farawayfiction
Summary: The conclusion ofBorn To Killtold from a unique point of view.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	This Family

The smell of blood draws my attention away from Master. ‘Stay by his side’, Father had instructed. But how could I now? He’s still. Unmoving. Grandfather is tending to his broken body. Fathers needs me now as he stumbles up the steps. The blood. So much of it on the stones behind him. Drops. At every footfall. How much can Father lose?

I trail. Up and through the clock. Father doesn’t bother to close it, instead going straight to the portrait above the mantle. He _never_ leaves the portal open. A rule. With no exceptions. But he is the rule maker. The rule keeper. The rule breaker. He leans heavily and if the blood were absent, I would still know. I can smell it. His collapse is imminent.

I call for help. Before he falls. As he falls. After he hits the ground. Blood begins to pool beneath him. In his unconsciousness, he clutches Master’s mask, still in his hand from earlier.

This is bad.

This is _wrong._

I rush to the open clock and cry again. Louder. **Louder.** _Hear me, Grandfather._ Father needed me and now he needs you. Only you can stop the bleeding. Only you can put him right. Louder. Louder still. Come now. _Now._

Finally. Grandfather’s running feet, his pause of surprise at finding the passageway open, _his_ plea of concern for Father.

“Master Bruce!”

He kneels immediately. His hands. Searching. Inspecting. Then he rolls him over and hefts Father into a seated position, settling him with care against the masonry.

My throat grows sore from crying. I whimper. Yell. Nudge Father with my nose. My paw. _Open your eyes Father._ Please don’t leave the Master. I could never fill your place or heal the hole you would leave in his heart.

“Shush,” Grandfather directs.

A final whimper. My last protest. Did I not do right? He seems to understand. Grandfather always understands.

“You did well,” he adds as he pulls from his pocket a stick. A metal stick. That shines light. He pushes open Father’s right eyelid and the beam drifts across his pupil.

Father groans. A miserable sound. I drop down at his feet and lay my head across his legs, looking up. Watching. _It’s time now Father._

Grandfather repeats the process with the left. Father’s fingers wrap tighter around Master’s mask. A good sign. Then Father tries to turn his head away. Away from the light. Grandfather holds his chin firmly then shifts his hand to Father’s back. Supporting him. Comforting. A chastisement leaves the elder and the younger groggily grouses back.

Yes.

_Better._

“Damian?”

My ears perk up.

Grandfather sets his fears at ease and orders him to follow the light. His eyes do not track as they should. A ‘diagnosis’ follows. Father and Master both suffer similarly. Later, Father rests in a bed across from Master. Both are still. Quiet. Too quiet. Grandfather remains close. Never far. He too is watching. Waiting.

The steps still smell of blood.

I sink. Tired. Afraid. _When will they wake, Grandfather?_

He scratches behind my ear and I lean into his affection. Grandfather has no lack of affection. Even for me. “They’ll be just fine, my boy,” he encourages.

Father surprises us both. A whisper. “Titus.”

Again my ears perk up.

Grandfather is at his side immediately. “What was that, Master Bruce?”

“The dog.” A long pause. He breathes in. Breathes out. “Damian named him Titus.”

**Author's Note:**

> A friend of mine suggested the Batman Robin run by Tomasi and Gleason so I picked up Vol. 1: Born To Kill after having not read comics for ages. It was really my first solid introduction to Damian. And of course, Titus. I like them both. The panel where he rests his head of Bruce’s legs pulled on my heartstrings. I remember thinking, “He must be worried sick. Dogs know.” This was born shortly after.


End file.
